look away, in the distance
by vine
Summary: From the back of a cab, a Chinese business man has an awkward conversation with his over-friendly American driver. A relationship that should have stopped when he left the cab finds a way to continue, against even their expectations.
1. All the way to New York

This was inspired by Tori Amos' China. A wonderful song that I highly recommend. Chapters will be short but hopefully quick. I hope you enjoy it. All feedback is welcome~ Even pointing out typos... wouldn't be surprised if there are a few.

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The man stepped out of the airport, and Al spotted him immediately. A bright smile on his lips, he pulled his cab up in front of the stressed-looking man, tired eyes not hiding his obvious beauty. Al had almost mistaken him for a girl, except for how his rumpled suit was all straight lines, not the soft curves of a woman. He jumped as Al rolled down the cab's window, shouting out to him.

"Hey! Need a cab?"

The man stared at him for a long moment, then nodded stiffly, and Al hopped merrily out of the door, quickly picking up the man's lone suitcase and depositing it in his waiting trunk. His newest customer flinched when he had to slam the protesting thing, twice, to close it. Al had to bite back an even bigger smile. This man was not as straight and collected as his suit was, apparently. He moved to open the door for him as well, but was too slow. No matter! Al hummed a song to himself as he slipped back into the driver's seat.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones, at your service! Where ya headed?" A click of a button set his meter back to zero. The man glanced at it, and Al took a moment to admire the graceful ponytail he was sporting. He had a sudden, strange urge to reach over and give the the thing a quick tug, just to feel it. That was odd. Anyway, he kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel, tapping a rhyme on the worn leather. Not all cab drivers were crazy drivers, and he was trying to prove that. He was an awesome professional, here!

"Wang Yao." He ducked his head, voice nervous. "Nice to meet you."

A quick bob of the head, as Wang Yao- odd name, Al thought, but pretty cool- told him where he was going. "I know where that is! A bit of a drive, but easy enough! Ya here for business or pleasure, sir?"

A hot blush spread across his cheek, as Al watched in the rear-view mirror. "B-business. Just business."

The driver couldn't help but laugh. "Alright! Try to have a bit o'fun, though. New York is amazing when you know where to go, really. You ever been here before? Where you from?"

"No. I have never before been here." A purse of the lips, looking like he was concentrating. "I have been to other places, though. In America. I am from Xi'an." Perhaps he saw Al's blank look, because he was quick enough to elaborate. "China."

An 'Ah' of understanding. "And what do ya do, Mr. Yao?"

The older man's eye twitched, and his flight caught up with him, along with his nerves for the coming conference. "Do you always ask so many questions, aru? You are like a little brother!"

A pause. He sat there for a moment, jaw slack. Then he laughed, loudly, causing another blush to rise on Yao's cheeks. It took him a few moments to stop laughing, but when he did, he just shook his head.

"Nah. I only overwhelm the more interesting people." His smirk was enough to make the Chinese woman look away. "I'm assuming you have siblings?"

The way the man's posture tensed had Al backpedaling. "Kidding! No more questions? Got it!"

Yao just nodded. His thoughts were across an ocean. Surprisingly, so were Al's.

A few moments of silence later, Al pulled up in front of Yao's hotel, jumping out again to help the man with his bag. Just as Yao as about to walk through the doors, Al called out his name, running up the steps.

"Hey! You need a cab or anything, call me! I'm not available all the time, but if I am, I'd love to help you out!"

Yao blinked down at the card the beaming American had just given him. _Alfred F. Jones. Hero Taxi. _And a number.

"…thank you?"

Al just laughed. "Nothing to it!"

And he almost skipped back to his cab. Yao watched, feeling the dreaded onset of culture shock begin to set in.


	2. I can feel the distance getting close

The formerly-forgotten disclaimer: I don't own anything. Though being a Hero Taxi would be pretty cool.

Also, this story is being beta'd by the beautiful Xren, who is the China to my America. Meaning she makes sure I eat more than junk, and I talk her ear off. Xren, you can call me for a ride and a Hero anytime~ 3

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But the next day, after his first meeting, exhausted and dreading the call home that was waiting for him when he got back to his hotel, the one he really should have made yesterday, and oh everyone would be worried, angered, and after being splashed by a taxi he was trying to hail for a third time, Yao gave in. He dialed the number on his company phone, and was only a little surprised when Alfred F. Jones himself answered the phone.

_ Maybe it's an… independent company, aru._

"Y'allo!"

Yao didn't quite know what to say, at first. "Mr. Jones?"

There was a moment of tense static, then Yao had to pull the phone away from his ear, less he lose his hearing to Al's excitement.

"Mr. Yao? Perfect timing! I just finished up a drop off, so where are you?"

Yao barely had time to mutter his current location, before Al was promising he'd be be there in ten, and then he was hanging up.

Well. That was surprisingly easy.

Twenty one and a half minutes later, Alfred was screeching to a stop in front of Yao's waiting form, already spouting apologies.

"Honest, some people in this city must have gotten their license driving down tractors!"

Yao just yawned, then covered his mouth in embarrassment.

"Thank you, Mr. Jones."

A wave of his hand, the lone hand on the steering wheel easily navigating him through NY's traffic. "Please. 'Alfred' is formal enough! Al is even better. No one calls me Mr. Anything."

Yao just nodded, and though he may have been imagining it, Al's shoulders seemed to slump.

Alfred didn't want this drive to fall to the same silence that yesterday's had. But it seemed that Yao Wang was not drawn into idle conversation easily. Al didn't like the circles under the man's eyes, or the exhaustion in those straight lines. How old was this man? He looked older than he did yesterday, already.

As Al took in the details of this man's appearance, Yao's eyes shot wide, and he made a little gasping noise. "I... I am sorry, but I did not pay yesterday!" The poor man actually looked terrified, and Al almost pulled over, worried for a second that he was going to continue hyperventilating until he passed out. There really was only one solution to this problem.

"Don't sweat it, man! It was on the house! In fact," he reached out and clicked off his meter. "So is this. That better?"

Yao imagined that someone might describe the sound he wanted to be making as a fish out of water. Luckily, he knew enough by now, how to keep himself quiet. Still, he felt his mouth drop open, before he closed it quickly, before any sound could come out. Finally, after he felt collected, he managed to mutter a soft 'What?'

Laughing, Al hit a red light, and turned around to wink at his customer. "Ya heard me! No payment needed."

And Al watched happily as the exhaustion faded to the background, the lines bent to form such graceful curves, and though he seemed to stop himself from saying what he thought, what could almost be counted as a smirk lifted his lips for a moment.

Aha, did the man already think that he was crazy? "Don't judge all Americans just by me, okay?" He took a sharp corner, and Yao's hand flew out to brace himself against the door. A hint of a scowl that got the American laughing again. "Not everyone's a hero like me!"

Hero Taxi. Oh, of course. Yao almost added a 'daze!' to the end of the blonde's sentence. Really, that must be why it was so easy to get annoyed with this stranger. Usually, he tried to remain level headed, calm. But anyone who could remind him of that particular brother of his... yes, that was why this boy- and he must really only be a boy, so idealistic and bright eyed- disturbed his calm so easily. That was it.

Yao made the decision to not call Hero Taxi again. And this wasn't running away, either. This was just ridding oneself of an annoyance.

Meanwhile, Al was humming happily to himself. Because progress was a wonderful thing.

Almost before he had stopped, Yao was opening the door. He nodded a quick thanks as he straightened his suit and hurried towards the hotel doors. Al watched him go, a silly little smile plastered to his lips. He looked more in control, he did. He was standing straighter, that was for sure.

Progress. It was almost like a victory in itself!

Al allowed himself one hero's fist-pump, and then pulled out into the streets of his city again, whistling along to the love song on the radio, which he turned up to one notch past obnoxious and thudded in his ears.

He was supposed to go back to the meetings, but he was a bit giddy with his potential success. The cab's clock was a few minutes fast, anyways. He could fit in one more job, couldn't he? Not like the meeting really needed the boss' son, anyways. They rarely ever needed him, except to smile and look pretty. He may as well be helping people while he did that.


	3. you're right next to me

It's been a while. Hope you enjoy the next chapter. I own nothing but the plot, and invite any and all of you reading this to point out anything wrong with that~

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The last meeting, and then Yao could go home. His boss was already pleased with him, and this was just formalities. Meeting with the man's whole board, as they signed some papers on the deal. Easy.

Yao checked and double-checked to make sure there was not a thread or hair out of place. He managed to hail a cab outside of his hotel before he even thought to reach for the card tucked away in his briefcase.

The quick success of his ride made him earlier to the meeting than he had intended to be. Not wanting to seem over-eager, he waited in the lobby, admiring the art on the walls. It was more than the generic art of a hotel looking for class points, that much was obvious. A particular piece caught his eye, and he found himself rooted to the spot in front of it, tracing the lines of an eagle's outstretched wings with his eyes. Eagles were not an uncommon subject to paint, but this artist had really captured the feel of breathless anticipation before one took wing. It was a touch obvious for Yao's taste, though he couldn't point out exactly what made him feel that way. Maybe it was the sheer size of the piece, twice as large as any of the others in the room.

"That's my favorite one!"

There was a body, much too close to him, and he subtly stepped away, turning towards the loud stranger.

Who turned out to be not a stranger, after all. Alfred F. Jones turned to flash his wide, naive smile in Yao's directions, though it stuck, half-mast, when the boy got a good look at him. Recognition flashed through his eyes, and then he took a step back, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he laughed. His ears were red, Yao couldn't help but note.

"Mr. Yao! I didn't expect that t'be you! Aha, you surprised me there!"

Yao didn't say anything for a long moment, taking in the boy's appearance. He was wearing a suit, though his shoulders were slightly hunched in a way that hinted at how he wasn't quite used to the formal attire. Even so, he made it very easy to feel small next to him. Though he wasn't the tallest man, he had a kind of energy that was even more noticeable when he was in an open place like the lobby.

Alfred was now looking more than a little uncomfortable, and Yao realized that his analyzing glance may have been mistaken for staring.

"Hello, Mr. Jones."

"Hey, what did I say about that? You can call me Al, remember?" The boy's shoulders relaxed, and Yao couldn't help but note that it was a very nice suit this boy was wearing. Certainly not one a taxi driver who waved the fare often could afford. Something wasn't adding up, and it worried him, because that means that he had missed something, and he wasn't supposed to do that.

"...Al." No, it still sounded odd on his tongue. The suit made the boy look older than he had before, Yao noticed. Maybe about Kiku's age, even. What a contrast these two were, though. His younger brother had not a thing in common with this grinning American.

"So, Mr. Yao, what are you doing here?" If there had been anything in his voice aside from genuine curiosity, Yao might have considered the question rude. But there was honest interest in the boy's eyes, completely unshielded. Did he know how easy he was to read? He had to be younger than Kiku. He had all the experience of a child, it would appear.

Still, it would be rude to not answer the question, and there would be no harm in answering. "I am here for a meeting."

"Oh?" He laughed, and clapped a hand on Yao's shoulder, causing him to flinch. "Guess you found another cab this time? I wouldn't have been able to drive you, anyways. Today's my day off, so to speak."

And yet he was wearing a suit. If Yao were younger, more curious, he might have been bothered by how often this boy confused him, how he was so easy to read and yet impossible to predict. But Yao wasn't a foolish boy anymore. He was older, and wiser, and he had come here to do a job. He was almost done, and couldn't wait to go home. And once he was home, he would not puzzle over this boy. Not at all.

But the boy was looking at him with those over-bright blue eyes, as if he were expecting an answer. Yao opened his mouth to offer some generic answer, when a loud, familiar voice cut through the lobby.

"Alfred!"

The boy noticeably flinched, his shoulders coming up as his body tensed, and his smile was a little strained as he turned to face the owner of the voice. Yao turned as well, and was shocked to see the head of the corporation he had been dealing with during his time in America. He discreetly let his eyes flicker to the clock hanging above the front desk. He wasn't late, so the man must just be early. And he knew Alfred? Yao tried to keep the confusion from showing in his expression, which was professionally blank.

"Hey, Dad!"

He couldn't keep the surprise from showing, for just a second. Not after that. His eyes widened, as he glanced over at Alfred, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, trying to look casual but only looking more strained. Mr. Williams was glaring at the younger man, and Alfred seemed to be doing his best to ignore this fact.

"Address me properly, Alfred. This is a very important meeting, and I don't want you embarrassing me in front of- Ah, Mr. Wang. I see you have met my son. I apologize if he has been disrespectful in any way."

Yao gave a quick, small shake of his head, automatically brushing at the front of his suit, though he knew it had been sitting on him perfectly minutes ago. The corporate head was intimidating, making Yao feel like a rookie, not someone who had been doing these things- albeit on a smaller scale- for years.

"No, Mr. Williams." Al was shooting him an odd look, almost pleading, so he paused, then added as an afterthought, "Only discussing the art."

"I see." Mr. Williams' judging gaze flickered to the painting. "Gaudy and idealistic, but it does seem to attract attention, doesn't it." There was a subtle dig there, a reprieve. One to b noted, but not commented on. He did not pause to listen to any answer. "You are here early, Mr. Wang. Would you care to join me upstairs? We can discuss some minor details before we sign the papers with the rest of the board."

Yao noticed Alfred's shoulders slump, as he was ignored. "That sounds beneficial, thank you."

As Yao followed the man towards the elevator, he could feel eyes on him, and his mind immediately conjured up those sky blue eyes, bright as the sky between the eagle's wings had been.

"You're leaving tomorrow then, I assume?"

Yao turned, once in the elevator, facing the doors. Before they closed, he spotted Alfred, once again staring at the painting. He looked small, next to the eagle's wings. Just a child.

"Yes, sir." Where the world was bigger, and taxi drivers were not also the sons of multi-millionaires. Home was not perfect, but at least he was used to the imperfections there, knew where he had to step so he would not stumble on a crack in the foundation. Though if he were to be honest with himself about his home, which he never allowed himself to be, he would admit that in the small time he had been gone, there would probably be a dozen new cracks, spiderwebbing across the metaphorical floor of his shattering family.

Yao was very good at ignoring such cracks, even as he danced around them.


End file.
